


Please Don't Worry Lover

by drosophilase



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drosophilase/pseuds/drosophilase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren takes a tumble at glee rehearsal, and Chris is, of course, the first person they call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Worry Lover

> _[This is fact not fiction](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jduFDgIr598) _
> 
> _for the first time in years_  

It’s nearly midnight when Chris gets the call.

“What do you need, Kev?” he says, not even sorry for the edge of exasperation that seeps into his voice. 

Darren insisted that Chris go home instead of watching their dance rehearsal, mostly for the fact that Chris was nodding off behind his laptop.

“Go home, baby,” Darren had said sweetly, taking the laptop and saving his work before Chris could begin to protest, then packing up his bag and handing it to him.

“Well I guess I’m going home,” Chris had said, keys forcibly in hand and glasses still perched on his nose.  Darren had laughed and kissed him, giving him a tap on the ass as he turned for the door.  The catcalls of their friends had followed Chris as he left, giving them the finger over his shoulder.

“Hey Chris… don’t freak out, okay?  We’re at the hospital—”

Instantly, Chris is out of bed, throwing his book aside without marking the page and pulling on the jeans he had discarded earlier.

“What happened?  Is it Jenna?  I keep telling her not to—”

“No, Chris, uh, it’s Darren.”

He stops short mid-reach for his keys, the very blood in his veins turning to frozen shards of ice.

“Dare… I…”

“He’s fine, Chris, he’s fine!  Just a little banged-up, a bad fall from the risers, he’s fine.”

The blood rushes back with fiery insistence, boiling until he can feel the heat in his ears and cheeks.

“I  _told_  him about jumping off things, I  _told_  him!” Chris raves, feeling a sick satisfaction when his voice echoes back from the house next door.  He can’t help it, the yelling— that sick frozen  _dread_ followed by the thaw of relief left him jittery and overwrought.  Kevin’s just the messenger, he knows, but he had been _so scared_.

Kevin makes a choked-off kind of noise, like he’s trying not to laugh.  “Yes, yes, you’re always right.  In fact, that’s what Darren just said.  He’s been asking for you.”

Chris instinctively slams the brakes where he’s halfway down his driveway.  He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way those words tug on his heart.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

—-

He ducks into the emergency room, pulling off his hat and sunglasses.  There’s a small group of familiar faces in the far corner of the waiting room, and Chris hurries over.

“Thank  _god_ ,” Kevin says with a strange amount of fervent conviction.

“Where…?  Is he…?” Chris tries, not knowing what question to ask.

“He’s  _fine_ ,” Jenna says, rolling her eyes and looking thoroughly put-out.

Chris is finally confused, looking between the two of them and Cory asleep in the chair.  “Wait, what am I missing here?”

“He’s…” Kevin tries, looking to Jenna for inspiration.  She sighs dramatically.

“God, sorry Chris, but he’s a  _whiny baby_.  Like the most pathetic injured person I know.  Literally the first words out of his mouth, after  _owfuckshitdamn_ —” Chris is seriously impressed at her imitation— “was  _Chris is going to kill me_.  And since then, it’s just been increasingly  _grating_  variations of the two.”

Chris tries to look properly annoyed, too, but his face didn’t get the memo and all he manages is a silly sort of grin.

Kevin groans and Jenna looks entirely too smugly happy.  Chris just gives a little shrug, lips twisted up like he can’t help it.

“Oh, go get your man so we can all go home,” Kevin says finally, lightly shoving Chris towards the doors that lead to the exam rooms.

Chris goes, throwing a quick  _thanks_  over his shoulder and pretending like he doesn’t see their satisfied smiles.

—-

Darren is… well, pathetic.  Chris can’t think of a better word.  He’s propped up on pillows, left knee hidden under layers of bandages and cold packs, and Chris could have found him just by following the sounds of his little pained groans.

“Finally!” Chord exclaims as soon as Chris pokes his head in the door, his tone _identical_ to Kevin’s.  Chris spares him a glance and a grateful smile before focusing on Darren.   _Darren_ , looking especially small in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old Michigan tee, his eyebrows all drawn up in pain and his arms wrapped around himself.

“ _Darren_ ,” Chris breathes without really thinking about it, shutting the door behind him.  His eyes pop open at the words, pained face breaking into a grin despite it all.  Chris just barely stops himself from pressing a hand to his chest at the rush of fondness.

“ _Chris!_   Yay, Chris is here!” Darren half-yells, lifting his arms in invitation.  Chris can’t help the little  _aww_ that escapes at his pouting lips, his tangled hair.  He’s just so warm and soft and vulnerable and Chris wants nothing else but to wrap Darren up in his arms.

Behind him, Chord snorts.  “You can take it from here, right?  I’ve got an early meeting with my manager.”  Chris nods, accepting Darren’s bag and discharge papers.

“See you Monday, man.  Rest up, okay?” Chord steps up beside the bed do some complicated-looking handshake.

“Thanks buddy, you’re the best!” Darren says, pointing enthusiastically at Chord’s back.

Chris just shakes his head, accepting Chord’s friendly slap on the back and holding the door open for him as he makes to leave. 

“Hey Chord, be a dear and tell everyone else I said thank you and that they can leave now, okay?”

“Will do!  He’s your problem, now.  Good luck!” Chord calls joyfully, walking backwards down the hall until he nearly topples over a cart.

Chris laughs at the ridiculousness of it all, still giggling when he turns back to Darren.  His eyes are big, face serious as Chris lets the door swing shut.

“I can see your teeth, Chris.  I like when I can see your teeth, it means you’re laughing or you’re smiling so big that you forget to care.”

It’s sweet, but a little  _too_  honest, even for Darren.  Chris smiles at him distractedly, wordlessly accepting the compliment even as he skims the papers in his hands.

“So, they gave you Lortab, huh DC?”

Darren screws up his face like he’s trying to remember.  “Maybe.  I dunno.  But I _do_  know that my knee feels a lot better.  In fact I can’t feel much of anything right now, so maybe we should go home.”

It’s so matter-of-fact that Chris almost doesn’t catch the words until he does.  The sweet, heady thrill runs from the tips of his suddenly burning red ears to his tingling fingertips and all the way deep down to the bottoms of his feet.

Chris tucks the papers away, ducking his head to get himself back under control.  He moves closer, offering his arm for support and helping Darren to his feet.  At his little pathetic moan, Chris presses a kiss right at the edge of his curls.

“Yes, baby, let’s go home.”

—

He fusses, probably more than he should, making sure Darren’s pillows are fluffed and his knee is propped up just right, then setting an alarm for his next dose of Lortab— thank  _god_ for 24-hour pharmacies.  Darren is in and out, his eyes slipping closed for just a few seconds, then longer and longer as Chris works.  When he’s finally satisfied and all of Darren’s little pained grunts have turned into low, rumbling pleased hums, he strips and pulls on his sweatpants, watching the way Darren’s eyelashes throw long shadows across his cheekbones in the lamplight.

With as little noise and movement as possible, Chris slips under the covers too.  It’s a little weird to be on this side— they switched to put Darren’s hurt knee on the outside— but the pillow smells so much like  _Darren_  that Chris presses his face into it happily, breathing deep and unable to stop himself from sighing on the exhale.

“Wha’s wrong?” 

It’s more slur than words, but when Chris opens his eyes, Darren’s are staring right back at him, a little wrinkle of concern on his brow.

“Right now?  Not a thing in the world.”

He smiles and Darren’s concerned expression falls away, his tired eyes crinkling with a grin of his own.

Chris turns to click the lamp off, getting the worst of his dopey grin out in the process.  He rolls back in the darkness right onto an outstretched arm, and Darren curls it to draw him in close.  Chris melts into him, wrapping an arm around his stomach and nudging his toes against Darren’s good leg.  He can’t help but press a kiss into Darren’s soft tee shirt, letting his chest pillow his head and listening to the steady  _thump-thump_ under his cheek.

“You’re the best,” Darren mumbles, and Chris hums his assent, just-barely scratching his nails down ribs and petting back up, over and over.

Darren’s thumb runs up and down his shoulder and Chris drifts, content and happy and free.


End file.
